


No Such Things as Miracles

by artenon



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ship is, inexplicably, safe, and all Spock can think is, <i>There are no such things as miracles</i>.</p>
<p>(Or: That Scene, in Spock's POV.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Such Things as Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. So, I wrote a Star Trek thing (and may be writing another--so the descent begins).
> 
> ~*SPOILERS FOR STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS*~
> 
> Rated G but there is major character death. Although I didn't mark the warning because presumably you have seen the movie and know what happens.
> 
> trekkink meme prompt: i want an extended/zoomed in scene of the hand to hand touching through glass in the engine room. preferably from spock's perspective, his thoughts and feelings. a good kind of hurt.

The ship is, inexplicably, safe, and all Spock can think is, _There are no such things as miracles._ And then there is Mr. Scott’s voice summoning him to the engine room with a vague, “Sir, you’d better get down here,” and an added, “Better hurry,” and this _it_ , this is the catch, and Spock just _knows_ something has happened to Captain Kirk—and Vulcans are not supposed to make guesses, but damned if he is wrong about this, because the ship is safe, but where is her captain?

There are no such things as miracles.

His stomach and throat are rebelling against him, and he feels he may vomit by the time he arrives and sees the Captain. Mr. Scott will not open the door and despite the soundly logical reasoning of why they simply cannot get Kirk out, some desperate part of Spock cannot help but want to throttle the engineer and force him to open the door regardless.

Instead of giving into this primal urge, Spock drops to his knees and touches the glass, so thin, keeping him from his Captain. Kirk’s eyes flick to his face and seem to lighten a shade in recognition.

He asks how the ship (“ _our_ ship,” he says) is, and Spock does not want to talk about the ship when Kirk is so clearly dying, but he does not know what else to talk about because everything inside of him is collapsing and his mind is a storm of—of emotion, emotion he cannot control, pain like a physical wound, and Spock would be disappointed with his own lack of control if he could be made to care about such things just then.

But he reassures Kirk—“out of danger”—so he knows that his sacrifice will not have been in vain, and Kirk compliments Spock, and Spock says, “It is what you would have done,” as close to an apology as he can get because he does not know how else to explain that he understands now, that he should never have been so disapproving of Kirk and his methods.

He is not sure if Kirk understood what Spock was trying to say in so few words, because then Kirk says, “And this is what you would have done. It was only logical,” and it feels like another physical blow, because Kirk has finally learned the lesson Spock has been trying for the past year to teach him, but this is not the way Spock wanted Kirk to learn it. Never this way. And it is cruel, so cruel, like the universe is laughing in his face (if Spock were inclined to use such analogies).

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

There are no such things as miracles.

Spock wants to say something, anything, tell him, “This is not what I wanted,” or “I was wrong,” or “Illogically, I find that I do not want you to be logical,” but the words get stuck in his throat.

Kirk says, “I’m scared, Spock.”

Kirk says, “Help me not be.”

Kirk asks, “How do you choose not to feel?”

Kirk is many things, but he is not scared. Kirk does not ask Spock for help, but assumes Spock will follow him and help him of his own accord. Kirk does not deny or restrain his human emotions, but lets them flow freely.

Kirk is human, Kirk is dying, Kirk is scared, and Spock is, too.

Spock meets Kirk’s imploring gaze and considers lying—Vulcans do not lie, but Spock is half-Human (and how he wishes he had accepted that sooner), and he finds he is willing to do whatever he must to reassure his Captain—but he thinks Kirk will appreciate the truth and so he admits, softly, voice trembling with emotion he cannot control, “I do not know. Right now I am failing.”

Kirk takes this information, processes it, and he says, in his losing voice, “I want you to know why I couldn’t let you die. Why I went back for you.”

But Spock will not let Kirk die without letting him know that he _knows_ now, that he _understands_.

“Because you are my friend,” he says, and a tear falls from his eye, one raindrop from the storm raging inside his body.

Kirk does not respond—perhaps he can talk no longer, has expended the last of his strength to say what he must—but he presses his hand against the glass, the thin layer separating them, and Spock, tentatively, brings his own hand up to his side of the glass, fingers forming the ta’al, and never before has he yearned so strongly to be able to _touch_. He remembers scattered instances of Kirk touching him—a hand gripping his shoulder, patting his back, slapping his arm—too many over the past year for him to remember, but suddenly not enough, and Spock regrets that he never once reciprocated.

Kirk’s fingers shift, mimicking the salute, and Spock presses his hand against the glass harder, knowing it is illogical even as he thinks that maybe if he pressed hard enough he could feel Kirk’s hand on the other side of the glass, feel the million touches Kirk will never be able to give him, and maybe Spock can give him enough to compensate for all of the missed opportunities.

He presses harder, still, and his breaths are ragged now. He wants to break the glass, force the door open, gather Kirk in his arms, hold him, meld with him so he will not die alone. This pseudo-touch is not enough. Spock wants to _feel_.

But the pseudo-touch is all they have, and Kirk is trying to smile at him, the corners of his mouth twitching weakly, as if he is trying to reassure him—ridiculous. Spock is not the one in need of reassurances, the empty reassurances that humans are so fond of. ‘Everything will be okay.’ No, it will not.

But the cursed Human half of him cannot help but hope desperately, warring with his Vulcan side. _There are no such things as miracles; a Captain cannot cheat death_ , his Vulcan half insists, and his Human half pleads, _But Jim is impossible, Jim is illogically, beautifully impossible, Jim can defy even death._

It happens abruptly: One moment, he is there, almost touching but not, trying to smile, and then the light goes out of Kirk’s eyes and his hand slips from the glass, and his body is there but _he_ is not, and the rest of the universe falls away until all that is left is Spock and Jim, no more glass between them—just them. And his Vulcan side is saying, _The radiation poisoned him; you knew he could not survive_ , and, _It was the logical thing to do; he saved the ship_ , and his Human half cannot even form a single articulate thought in response, simply cannot make _sense_ of it, cannot comprehend how Jim is just _gone_.

Spock cannot breathe and for a moment it feels as if nothing exists at all, this is all there is, this deafening whirl of grief at once inside and all around him.

The sound of footsteps, someone running, brings him back, reminds him that life has not stopped because Jim’s has, and Spock knows the only way he can stand up again is to gather his grief and transform it into a hatred directed towards the one who has robbed James Kirk of his life. As grief is replaced by rage, Spock knows that Khan was wrong: For Jim, Spock will break any rule. And he will certainly break bone.

 

(Later, Doctor McCoy, coming from the operation shaky with relief from the knowledge that Jim will be all right after all and looking to return things to the status quo, will mutter to Spock, “So, you do have feelings? What a goddamn miracle,” and Spock will allow the smallest of smiles as he says serenely, “There are no such things as miracles,” but he will know that the real miracle is Jim.)


End file.
